Path of the Fallen
by LadyKayoss
Summary: There are hundreds of tales of tragedy and death involving Mt. Gagazet. This is one of them.


Disclaimer: Final Fantasy X belongs to Square Enix, though the characters within are of my own design.

Author's Note: I wrote this fic about three years ago, and only just recently found it in a notebook wedged in the bottom of a box. I kinda like it, so I decided to share it. It's not about the main characters of FFX we all know and love, but of one of the many tragedies of Mt. Gagazet. I loved Mt. Gagazet – it was the last leg of the journey before Zanarkand, the place of so many tragedies, and it had great music.

_**Path of the Fallen**_

There were hundreds of tales of sorrow and death in the long history of fearsome Mt. Gagazet, even in my time, so many decades earlier. I had thought them exaggerated, the part of every tale that is enhanced to frighten listeners and heighten thrills. Now, I knew better. The tales fall far short of the truth. Mt. Gagazet was a mountain of death, and I feared my summoner was about to join the nameless pilgrims who had fallen on their journey.

Naaten was huddled beneath a shallow overhang of rock, shivering in his tattered garments. Beside him lay his friend and Guardian Luander, who had fallen asleep beside him last night and had never awoken. Naaten had yet to perform his friend's Sending; he was ill, I could sense it through our bond. Combined with the broken rib that made his breath come in pained rasps and the sprained ankle, swollen in the shabby boots, made me doubt his survival. He was alone on the mountain…

His pilgrimage had started well enough. He'd first acquired me, his Valefor, when he was merely fifteen. When the Calm had broken three years later, he'd set out with the warrior Luander and the black mage Neera, Naaten's twin sister, to fulfill his duties as a summoner. He'd had so much strength, so much determination, that I'd believed he could do it.

All had gone well until Mt. Gagazet. The Ronso had blockaded the pass, claiming the mountain was in the throes of a catastrophic storm, and to walk its path was death.

Naaten would not be deterred. He and his Guardians wanted to bring an end to Sin, and wouldn't wait the weeks it would take for the storm's fury to abate. Backtracking, he and the others found a steep but serviceable path up the mountainside.

This was his first mistake. They traversed the side safely, though with enough slips to give myself and my fellow Fayth a fright.

The path ascended to a narrow cut in the rock, the high walls loaded with several feet of snow. They traveled silently, wary of the dangers of starting an avalanche.

They didn't count on the fiends blocking the path. Several Grats, perhaps seeking shelter in the lee our narrow valley provided, met us halfway through. Naaten summoned Ifrit in the hopes the fire demon could end the battle quickly.

The low rumbling was our first warning, then Naaten and his Guardians were thrown off their feet as snow cascaded down, burying Grats, Ifrit, and pilgrims alike. The great Aeon's fire was quenched, and Neera was killed by a falling boulder that fell with the snow. Naaten and Luander both escaped, though they were injured. Naaten Cured what he could, but magic couldn't heal everything, especially not the gapping hole left in his soul by the loss of his twin…

I knew something was wrong with Naaten after he performed Neera's Sending. He surged onward, caring little for his health or Luander's. He was determined to reach Zanarkand, then vanquish Sin and forever glorify his sister in memory.

Their path met the main trail, made treacherous by a storm as violent as the Ronso had warned. Even then, that didn't stop the fiends from being out in force. Naaten lost Shiva that day, against a trio of Grenades.

They camped that night as best they could. The shelter was sparse, and they lacked Neera's magic to start a fire. Naaten caught cold from the flurry of snow and the bitter cold wind that howled through the rocky crags.

When they woke, they were stiff and sore, and shivering uncontrollably. Naaten's waning magic could only heal so much, and they had already run out of the items that supplemented his powers.

That day, the snow was so thick, visibility was only a few feet ahead. They were crossing a narrow bridge of ice that steeply ascended into the unknown, and Naaten and Luander clung to each other for dear life. They didn't go over the edge, but both Ixion and mighty Bahamut, severely weakened by Naaten's failing strength, were felled in battle with fiends left confused and angry by the storm.

That last fight, where Bahamut was lost, was the worst. They were ambushed, and a Bashura crushed Naaten before throwing him to the ground. Spitting out blood and limping, he'd barely been able to summon aid. When Bahamut was lost, the Bashura took out its fury on Luander, breaking most of his limbs and puncturing a lung.

Naaten had used the last of his magic, and the rest of his strength, vainly trying to heal his childhood friend and then dragging him to the overhang that became his tomb.

Now it was Naaten and I alone. And, so long as I remained unsommoned, there was nothing I could do to help him.

I raged at the irony of it. In life, I had been a healer, crippled in an accident as a child, but still very good at tending wounds without magic. I had thought that, by becoming an Aeon, I would regain the freedom of movement while still helping others. Now I was no longer crippled, I had the freedom of the skies – if only he would summon me. I had the ability to heal – if only he would call before it was too late. Which I feared it was, but at least I could ease his pain. I hated to see him suffer, for I loved him.

Naaten stayed with the corpse of his dead friend for several hours, until it seemed as if his body had frozen in place. "I will send you," he whispered through chattering teeth. "Yevon, grant me strength…"

When he finally moved, he jerked awkwardly in a painful mockery of the graceful motions I was accustomed to. While Luander's spirit did depart to the Farplane, it took more time than usual, and Naaten fell into a limp heap afterwards.

_We can't stay here… _I thought desperately. _But Naaten can't go on. We need to go to the Ronso! Naaten, we must go back! I will defend you!_

I didn't know if he could read my thoughts or not. Sometimes, he seemed closed to me, but at others, his intuition was so uncanny I'd wondered if he'd read my mind. Now was not one of those times; he was staring dully at his friend's body.

"I should bury you and build a cairn like those along the trail," Naaten said through chattering teeth. "But I'm so weak… so tired…"

_Go back to the Ronso! They'll help! You can come back for Luander later! _I couldn't reach him… His mind was numb with shock and fatigue.

Suddenly, he lurched unsteadily to his feet. He steadied himself against the cold stone wall, then stared out at the whiteness beyond him. "You will be remembered. So will Neera. I will go to Zanarkand and defeat Sin. You won't be forgotten."

_No! _I thought, horrified. He was going to continue his pilgrimage! He couldn't be serious, could he?

As he wobbled from his shelter, pausing as a racking cough made him double over, I knew the truth: His eyes were focused on the summits above. He fully intended to go on, even though he didn't have a chance. _Turn back! Find a healer, re-supply at a shop, revive the other Aeons! Please, don't go on!_

He took one unsteady step forward, then another. He just didn't know that all was lost. Even if his brave heart had the strength to carry him into Zanarkand, he wouldn't receive the Final Aeon. But he wouldn't give up, and his courage and determination almost broke my heart.

When he didn't collapse after the first hour, I began to think he had a chance after all. Mumbling the names of his Guardians under his breath like a mantra, he seemed to gain strength with every step. He could make it! He would! Perhaps I could become the Final Aeon for him, and I could fight by his side!

A roar reverberated off the cliffs around us, and a flame-red Nidhogg stepped onto the path before us, with half a dozen more behind it. The lead one's jaws parted, and it spat a flame the normally agile Naaten couldn't avoid. I screamed silently as Naaten cried out, falling forward onto his left arm. His right arm, along with his shoulder and much of his chest, was a blackened ruin.

And finally, he called me. I wasn't the strongest of the Aeons, nor the fastest or most magical. However, I was consumed by rage at seeing my beloved treated in this manner. I would fight more fiercely than the rest of the Aeons combined!

Screaming, I dove from the sky. Naaten had collapsed and, left without commands, I tore into the pack of Nidhoggs, striking and slashing until nothing remained but bloody pulp, bright scarlet against the pristine white of the snow.

Then I went to Naaten, shoving my fleshy beak in his face and tenderly licking him. Oh, to be human again, and take him in my arms…

"Valefor," he whispered, reaching his good hand up to stroke my soft, fleshy feathers. I closed my eyes and made a soft whuffling noise. How I missed human words…

"How fitting you're here," he said. "You were my first Aeon, and now you're my last."

I shook my head in denial. Why had he never taught me Curaga? I used to know it, long ago…

"I'm not going to defeat Sin; I know that now. And I'll never even see Zanarkand." He struggled to a sitting position, cradling my head in his lap. He leaned his forehead against mine, and I could feel his tears drip into my eyes. "Not as a man, anyway." His breathing was shallower now, and came in rasps. "I'll be a fiend, with no one here to Send me."

I stiffened at the terrible thought. _Oh, Naaten…_

"Well, it was a good pilgrimage while it lasted, wasn't it? We saw so much of Spira…" _If only Aeons could weep, _I thought. "You were a good friend. I'm sorry if I seemed too dazzled by Bahamut's power to use you," he continued. "You were always my favorite. That's why I called you last; I didn't want you to leave me, too."

_I don't want _you _to leave _me! I wanted to shout. "I wish you were human," Naaten said, his blood-stained lips smiling lightly. "I bet you were a beautiful woman."

I was glad I wouldn't be able to shatter that illusion with the truth. "Promise me," he said suddenly, "that you'll kill me."

I jerked away, baffled. I warbled a query. "When I'm a fiend, I mean," he said sadly. "I don't want to live like that. Please, hunt me down. Destroy me, so I can go to the Farplane."

I didn't think it was possible. I'd never heard of an Aeon that could hold to life once their summoner died. They went straight to the Farplane. _I will try, _I thought.

This time, I swear he heard me. "Thank you," he whispered. He drew in a last, ragged gasp, then his body fell slack against me.

_Naaten! _My keening cry echoed through the mountain. I had lost my summoner! Lost him, so close to Zanarkand… _No…_

I felt a tug on my soul, insistent, difficult to resist. The Farplane was calling me. _No! Not without Naaten! _My body began to fade, to become translucent. _No! _I resisted, remembering my promise to my summoner. I would hold my shape, I would stay in this world! I wouldn't go to the Farplane without releasing Naaten from his fiendish destiny. I wouldn't go!

XXX

I don't know how I kept myself from leaving Spira. But a year passed, and I retained my physical form, though barely. I was only a vague, Phantom shape, a 'ghost Valefor' who had begun to be featured in stories from travelers through Mt. Gagazet. During my hunt for Naaten, I had saved many Summoners and Guardians, including the foursome that went on to defeat Sin. But still I hadn't found Naaten, and I was growing weary of this play at life. Without a Summoner to guide me, my powers were weakening, and it was becoming harder to destroy fiends.

When the Calm began, my task became more difficult. No more pilgrims traversed Gagazet, and the fiends kept mostly to themselves unless their was prey on the mountain paths. But I wouldn't give up; I flew the path from the Ronso village to Zanarkand and ranged over the barren, rocky areas untouched by man, searching for the fiend whose death would set me free.

Another year passed. My promise had become torture; while I still kept my form, it constantly pained me. I was growing weary of Mt. Gagazet, and once rode a storm's fury as it destroyed part of the treacherous path, reveling in the destruction. I feared I would become a fiend myself, if I stayed here too much longer. I dreamed of the Farplane constantly, and long for my eternal rest.

But it took twelve long, excruciating years, an entire Calm, before I found Naaten. Summoners were again making their perilous trek through Gagazet when I felt it: a peculiar tug at my soul, unlike the Farplane's demands. It led me to a young summoner and his two Guardians, both Confused by the Grats before them and the summoner downed by a blow from a Guardian's sword.

It wasn't the Grats that called to me, it was the Bashura that was with them. The hideous, multi-armed creature contained Naaten's transmuted spirit deep within it. _I hate these bastards the most, _Naaten had told Luander and Neera before the avalanche.

I didn't hesitated: I fell from the sky, keening my anguish, as I attacked what had been the man I loved. Four immensely strong arms wrapped around me, pinning my wings, tearing the phantasmal membranes as I clawed its abdomen and jabbed my beak into its eyes. I was far, far weaker than I had been twelve years ago, and the Bashura almost got the better of me when its upper arms caught my head in its hands and yanked it sideways. I could feel vertebra snap under the strength of if hold, and I opened my mouth in a scream.

My own efforts weren't in vain, however; my talons caught it in the belly, tearing through the thick fur. Our dying screams were a discordant harmony that echoed through the mountains, drowning out the howling wind. We collapsed to the snow, our bodies entwined. Beneath me, the Bashura that had been Naaten stared upward, its beady eyes slowly glazing over. Then the body began to fade, and as it did, I thought I saw a smile twist the creature's mouth. Then there was a swirl of color as Naaten's spirit pulled free and finally made its way to the Farplane.

I couldn't curve my broken neck to watch the spirit's final journey, but I didn't need to. I knew that I'd soon be joining him… I'd soon be with him… Just as soon as I exhaled this last breath…

The End


End file.
